Three weeks ago, I almost knocked the music out of me.
It was foolish on my part. I broke my “one log at a time” rule that day and carried two logs, one under each arm, while navigating the trail behind our house. On the last downslope—and unable to see my feet—I slipped on some debris: leaves, rocks, sticks. My legs flew out from under me; my hands and butt smacked the ground; my right side hit the sharp edge of a wooden stair step, knocking the wind out of me.
As I lay there, trying to catch my breath, Cato hovered above me and licked my face. Mac appeared at my feet, cocking his head in puzzlement. My only thought was, “Will I be able to make music, to sing and play my flute?”
Obviously, the answer was yes, since last week I wrote about reading scripture, playing and singing. But at the time, I wasn’t at all sure that would happen.
I gasped a painful breath, groaned, and elbowed myself up to a sitting position. Even though my back on the right side protested, I could move. I carefully put the logs down, so they wouldn’t roll down the mountain, and checked my hands. My fingers smarted and stung but flexed without discomfort.
Gingerly, I worked my way up to a standing position. To finish what I’d started—foolish and stubborn, too—I leaned over to pick up one of the logs. Oh no you don’t, my ribs screamed, not without a strong reminder that we’re bruised or cracked or broken. Later, I’d hear and feel a rib bone rattle in my back and determine probably all the above.
There’s not much one can do about rib damage, which usually mends in three to six weeks, unless there’s organ damage. Though sore and swollen, I could breathe okay and didn’t have fever or other symptoms. To recuperate, I cut back on physical activity and rested. I soon discovered that if I didn’t get up and move around, my back would get stiff. So, I got up day and night to walk around, doing a little of this and a little of that. Spring cleaning in the summer will get done, though it’ll take longer, and yard work, too.
Every day, I practiced singing and playing both flutes, less than usual but practice all the same. Despite the discomfort in breathing, I was able to play in church five days later and sing with the choir a week later. Each time I prayed, “Lord, help me get enough air into my lungs and diaphragm.” And He did.
Yesterday before pre-service worship team practice, Pastor announced the impending death of a dear friend. She and her husband, the leader of our small group, had celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary with us in April, before her sudden, terminal diagnosis. Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t focus on the music in front of me. This time, instead of physical injury, grief knocked the music out of me.
I prayed, “Dear Lord, You’re going to have to make music through me today.”
And He did, as He always does.
Linkup with Five Minute Friday: https://fiveminutefriday.com/2023/06/29/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-music/
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